Endless Sleep
by dabbling
Summary: When sex becomes a matter of life and death. Case file, B/A action.
1. Chapter 1

Endless Sleep

This one was a real sicko. They'd discovered 4 new works of art in parks around the city, only nobody had commissioned the art. And then someone noticed the smell, and called the police and it turned out the guy was entombing his victims in plaster, making sculptures out of them.

If it weren't for the decomp smell, he might have gotten away with it, at least until a good hard rain dissolved the medium. He must have used some kind of sprayer for the faces. The plaster was even there, and preserved their features.

Bobby had been meeting with Rodgers almost three times a day. As he thought it over, he would come up with more questions about the guy's process.

The chromatography results indicated that all of the victims had some degree of carbon monoxide poisoning, though that wasn't their COD. They all died from a lethal injection to the carotid.

"But, but rigor would set in and he wouldn't be able to, you know, position them like he wants to…"

"He kept them alive while he was plastering them?" Rodgers asked.

Bobby stared at her, and nodded slowly. "I think so, yes."

Rodgers sighed. "Well, it could be done. I'll go back through the blood tests, see if I can find anything else. Maybe he chemically restrained them and then killed them once he had the pose he wanted."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what I'm thinking," Goren said. "Could the, uh, CO poisoning have done that?"

"No. The victim would have been disoriented and nauseated, but I don't think they would willingly let him pose them and plaster them. And if they were poisoned to the point of losing consciousness, then he was taking a big risk that they would die before he finished. And he himself, could have CO poisoning as well."

"He couldn't have… protected himself from it?"

She shrugged. "It's odd that all the victims have this in common, but there are a million ways we are exposed to carbon monoxide every day. I'm not willing to say it's directly related to their murders."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"I'll call you after I go through the reports again."

"Thanks."

* * *

This last victim was a child, a 12 year old boy from the Bronx. The body was posed in a reclined position, with a hand on his groin and a porn magazine lying open against his chest. The kids' parents were horrified. They were good people, and they didn't look at porn, and their son had never said or done anything of a sexual nature. Even the kid's best friend said he wouldn't have done something like that.

Alex was very disturbed by the whole thing. As they left the neighborhood, they quietly discussed the interviews. She shook her head and looked over at Bobby.

He shrugged. "It's uh, you know, a work of art…" he was going to stop his sentence there, but he saw the horrified look on her face. "…to him," he continued. "The bodies are just a medium. You know, the paint itself doesn't tell you what to paint. That comes from the mind of the artist."

"So you think this kid was pure like they say?"

Bobby nodded. "Probably."

In the car, Bobby reviewed his notes about the last movements of the young man. They spent the rest of the day retracing his steps, gathering more and more and more information about his final moments on earth.

They met back at 1PP to brief the Captain before calling it a night.

"He was seen in and out of this building at least 5 times in the last week. We talked to the Super. He gave us the name of a tenant who mysteriously vanished about 3 o'clock yesterday." Alex was very matter of fact.

"You run him down?"

"We put the word out that he's a person of interest," Bobby explained.

"Get a search warrant for his apartment. Go back there tomorrow, see what you can find. And get some rest while you can. I have a feeling you're gonna need it," Ross said.

They discussed who they'd ask to sign the warrant, and agreed it should be in the morning. Judges liked to get their sleep, too.

"You gonna be all right?" Eames asked him. She knew how he got consumed with cases, and she'd already seen it taking hold of him today.

"Yeah, you know, I'll… I'll put on a movie or something… distract myself." Bobby ran his hand through his hair. "You?"

"I'm so tired I don't think I'll need a distraction."

"Good night, Eames."

"Good night, Bobby."

* * *

They arrived at the judge's house just as the man finished his first cup of coffee. Judge McKinto had a son almost the same age as the last victim. He was easily convinced to sign the warrant.

They headed back out to the apartment, warrant in hand, and a team of officers met them there. The Super, Brad Hagen, was as nice as ever. The old man was on oxygen today, and explained that he had COPD after years of working in a forge in his youth.

"There's good days and bad days," he told him, and he seemed short of breath, even with the oxygen. The officers knocked on the apartment door, and receiving no answer, the Super unlocked the door and they went in.

It took about an hour, but they had evidence that the man, Aaron Pait, had been dating someone, and had bought tickets to a broadway show for a couple of nights before.

"That was before the last victim was killed," Bobby said, and Alex nodded.

"Well, I guess now we track down the girlfriend," Alex announced as they headed back to the car. Bobby stopped to let Hagen know they were leaving. He left his card and asked to be called if Aaron should return.

* * *

"I haven't seen him in three days! He asked me out for Thursday night, but he never showed. I call him, and he doesn't answer!" She cursed him under her breath in Greek.

The detectives shared a look before heading out again. They briefed the Captain and spent the rest of the day trying to find Pait. Rodgers came upstairs to discuss the blood tests with them.

Alex invited her into an interview room, and Bobby shut the door behind them.

"I found droperidol, a sedative, in their systems. And… I went back over the bodies, found another injection point, in the genitalia."

Bobby was soaking the information in, but this last revelation made his face screw up in confusion. "What? Like, a hasty needle strike, or…?"

"I would have seen it the first time if it had gone down that way. There would have been bruising, tearing… These were very carefully administered injections, Detective."

"Nobody is going to sit still while somebody sticks a needle in your—" Bobby began.

Alex interrupted him. "They were unconscious already when he sedated them?" She looked at the Doctor, and then at her partner. "Why sedate them if they're already unconscious?"

"Droperidol is a highly effective chemical restraint. Maybe whatever he attacked them with first wasn't. Maybe they were simply sleeping when he injected them."

"Thanks, Rodgers." Bobby spoke quietly, scratching his head, and still cross with the new information.

He still hadn't made sense of it when Hagen called them back. "I forgot to tell you he had access to this workshop in the basement," the old man explained, huffing as he walked. "Excuse me," he said to them. They waited while he exchanged his cannula for a face mask. He moved it aside to speak to them. "I'm sorry," the old man said. "It's been a really bad day for this."

"You don't have to take us," Alex said, feeling for the man.

"No, I'll take you down and let you in. After that, you're on your own." He replaced the mask over his face and walked them to the basement, where he turned on the light. He hung back by the light switch, removed the mask a moment and announced. "Last summer he asked if he could paint his bike down here. That's why I gave him the key. You see the workshop over there. It's ideal for that sort of thing." He put the mask back on and adjusted the flow of oxygen.

They milled around, searching carefully for any evidence they could find. The old man pulled up a chair and sat watching them, staying out of their way. They didn't notice that he had slipped something into the pellet stove.

Alex's head was pounding, but she stayed focused as best she could. She opened a cabinet and found a bucket of dry plaster of paris. "Look, Bobby," she said. "I'm gonna call CSU."

He nodded and continued rummaging in the old barrels of rags in the corner. "Eames," he called, and held up a young boy's shirt, emblazoned with a Christian life logo.

"No service down here," she told him. She put her phone away and walked closer to inspect the shirt. Alex sighed. "Something a good boy might wear," she remarked. Then she raised her hand to rub her temples.

Bobby looked at her with concern. "Eames?"

She shook it off. "Just a headache. Probably coming down with something."

They postponed calling in CSU as they were now finding more and more items of interest. Before long, Alex held one hand over her stomach and stumbled back to sit on a bench.

"Alex?"

"Sick."

"Well, g-go ahead. You can call CSU and I'll stay down here." Before they had a chance to act on that, the old man shut the doors on them.

They were old bifold doors, metal with louvres at the top and the bottom. Bobby turned and tried to open them, but the man had secured them somehow.

"Mr. Hagen?" Bobby called, as he realized he wasn't feeling so well, either. "Mr. Hagen, let us out!"

He heard nothing in response. Bobby tried the doors again, but they didn't budge. He looked around frantically. In the workshop room, there was one window, but it was boarded over and the latch was rusted shut.

Alex fell off the bench, unconscious.

He stumbled over to her, checking her pulse, which was thankfully, still there. His mind put the facts together. Carbon monoxide. The oxygen mask. Mr. Hagen was their killer.

"Carbon monoxide, carbon monoxide," Bobby thought. "Gotta get some oxygen, some air in here," he told himself. He looked at the boarded window again and gave up on it. Then he turned his attention to the bifold doors. He stepped back, then ran full speed and rammed them with his shoulder, bending the metal and knocking them right out of their tracks. He landed on top of the twisted metal in a heap. The old man was nowhere to be seen. Bobby looked up and saw a window ahead of him. He reached up, opened it, sucked in a breath of fresh air, and then raced back to Alex.

In the inner confines of the room, the air was very bad. He tried to drag her out, but his movements were drunken and sloppy. He backed up as well as he could, dragging her with him, until he tripped on the twisted metal doors on the floor and fell hard. Bobby tried to get up, but he was overcome. The last thing he saw was the still burning pellet stove.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Anybody heard from Goren or Eames lately?" Ross asked the Detectives nearby in the squad room. Everyone shook their heads. He seemed perplexed by this. Ross returned to his office and tried to reach them by phone.

"Captain?" Jeffries said, knocking on his door. Ross put the phone down and looked up, waiting. "That guy Goren and Eames are looking for? Pait? He just turned up. Another sculpture in the park. He's the subject."

Ross hurried out to the bullpen. He called out to Logan and Wheeler. "Jeffries and I have a body," he told them. "You two find Goren and Eames." With that, the Captain and Detective Jeffries hurried out.

* * *

Alex stirred. She still felt terrible, but it seemed easier to breathe now. She slowly sat up and tried to get her bearings. They were no longer in the basement workshop. They were now in some kind of cage, some kind of room with a fenced gate for a door. There was low light in the room, and it was very quiet. She glanced around and saw Bobby lying very still on the floor. She hurried to his side and checked his pulse. He was alive, too.

All of her anxieties from her experience with Jo Gage were resurfacing. She was terrified to make a sound, but she wasn't alone this time. She was with Bobby, and she had to wake him. "Bobby," she whispered quietly. She dropped her hand to his chest. "Bobby, wake up," she commanded, but he remained still.

Alex sat back and rubbed her still aching head. In the next few minutes, she, too, would figure out what had happened, how Hagen had poisoned the air with carbon monoxide and protected himself with oxygen. She glanced around. At least he hadn't used the chemical restraint on them yet. They still had a chance. She gave Bobby another look. At least she didn't think Hagen would inject Bobby and not her.

Bobby wasn't ready to wake yet, so she explored their cell more carefully. She could see what must have once been a factory floor beyond them, and she could feel a slight chill in the air. Rubbing her arms, she wondered if this place even had heat. If not, they were in for a very rough night.

She checked her holster, and her pockets. Her registered weapon and her backup were both gone, as was her cell phone. She could see from the way his suit coat was lying that Bobby's glock was gone, too. Bobby didn't carry a backup. He always laughed and told a story about some rookie shooting himself in the nuts, and swore he'd never be that guy. Instead, he kept a switchblade in his pocket. It wasn't much of a weapon, but Bobby was a trained soldier, and he would know how to make it work for him. She rummaged through his pockets. His blade and his phone were gone, too.

He coughed and started to roll to his side, but she caught him with her hand. "Bobby," she whispered.

He groaned and sighed, his hands coming up to press against his face. Abruptly, he opened his eyes and stared at her. "We're not dead," he said.

She had to give him a grin. "Not yet," she told him.

"You okay?" he asked, sitting up with her help.

"Mostly. Probably the same as you." She looked him over. "He disarmed us, moved us to what looks like an abandoned industrial workshop. We're locked in, and it must be getting dark out, because it's cold in here."

Bobby got to his feet and swayed, catching his fingers in the fencing of the gate to steady himself. He held on with his left and smeared his right hand across his face.

"Give it some time," she told him. "It'll get better."

"He's… not here?" Bobby asked, scanning what he could see of the bare room outside their reach.

"Haven't seen or heard him yet," she said.

Shamelessly, Bobby grabbed himself in the crotch. "He didn't—"

"Apparently not," Alex said with a smile.

He removed his hand and scratched his head again. "I wonder why?"

"Who cares why? We still have a chance, Bobby."

Bobby shook his head and took a few shaky steps back into the cell. "He has other plans for us? Something different this time?"

"Well I don't plan to let him try anything," she said, and Bobby gave her a nod.

* * *

Ross and Jeffries finished up with Pait's body, and then checked in at the site with Logan and Wheeler.

"We've got a crime scene," Mike told them. "Evidence from the serial killings, and I'd bet anything Goren and Eames were here, too." Mike pointed to the twisted metal on the floor. "Somebody knocked these doors right out of their tracks."

"I'll bet we'll find that's Goren's blood on those. And these fibers, they could be from the suit he was wearing today."

"And we had to clear the air in here. I was here five minutes and got a headache. We brought in a CO detector and it went off like crazy." Mike nodded to the pellet stove. "The guy was putting some kind of chemicals in the fire. We're sending that off to the lab, too."

"Okay, so… assuming they're still alive, where did he take them?"

"The only person with access down here was the Super. I called and got people running background on Brad Hagen. Maybe by the time we get back, we'll have some idea of that." Wheeler was concerned about her fellow detectives, too, but she was very confident.

Ross looked around and frowned. "He knew we suspected Pait. There was no reason to let us find him like that, to leave his little… workshop, here…"

"Unless he's got something bigger planned for Goren and Eames," Jeffries said, and all of his colleagues glared at the sentiment.

* * *

"What happened to you?" Alex asked, just noticing the scratches on his hands.

"Oh, I uh… I busted down those doors at that other place… I guess the louvres caught me."

She nodded. It wasn't a big deal, just scratches. "You hurt anything else?"

"No, you know, I'm all right." The truth was he had some kind of bruise on his shoulder and his arm, but he wasn't of a mind to worry her. He could still move it at any rate.

She rubbed her temples. "This headache is sure getting old," she complained.

"Yeah," he agreed. They heard a door open at the far end of the building. They couldn't see anything yet, but they could hear the sounds of a garage door automatically lifting, and then of a vehicle driving in. The garage door closed with a slam and the vehicle drove in, very close to their cell.

It was an old Econoline van from the '70's. Navy blue. Hagen got out, set up a folding chair, then grabbed a bag from the front seat of the van. He sat down and brought a cheeseburger out of the bag, wafting it in the air as he spoke. "Oh, good. You're up," he said, and sat down in the chair to take a bite. "It's dinner time, I thought you might be hungry."

Both detectives stared at him, keenly aware of how hungry they were.

"So you came here to tease us with that?" Bobby finally asked.

"Oh, no. I don't believe in wasting food. I spent good money on these." He ate some more of the sandwich, happily.

"You want something from us then." Bobby continued.

Alex looked over at her partner. "I'd rather starve than appease you," she told Hagen.

Hagen ate another bite. The aroma of meat and melted cheese was filling their senses. "Suit yourself," he said. "But if you choose not to eat, then it's not murder, right?"

"What do you want from us?" Bobby asked, hoping they could eat something and stay alive a little longer. Alex threw him an angry look, but he brushed it off.

Hagen wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "I like to watch," he said.

Bobby added this to his mental profile of the man, this fascination with forbidden sex he seemed to have. And he knew it would be forbidden, two police partners…just as the young Christian boy's masturbation was taboo.

"Forget it, Bobby," Alex said. "He'd get his rocks off and not feed us afterward, anyway."

Bobby tilted his head. "She has a point. When could we eat?"

"Hell, you could eat during, if you want to. Yes. I think I'd like to see that." Hagen chuckled, and the sinister sound made both their stomachs turn.

"It's too cold in here, anyway," Goren said. "Gotta have heat to… you know…"

The old man stood, waving the bag closer to their noses once more. Then he tossed it on the chair and grabbed something else out of the van. A blanket. One full size blanket for the two of them to share.

"I thought you might be opposed to a fire," Hagen said, "though it is very romantic."

Alex spewed a few obscenities in his direction. She walked away from the gate, planning just what she would do, how she would attack, if he opened it.

Bobby grinned. "What do we have to do to get the blanket?"

"Kiss. With tongue."

"Forget it," was Alex's kneejerk reaction.

Bobby, however, was being practical. For the price of a kiss, the guy would have to risk opening the gate. And with an open gate came a chance at freedom. He looked at her. "Eames… I'm not that repulsive."

She almost bucked back at him, but she saw something in his eyes, and her mind made the same rationalizations his just had. She walked forward, arms folded, and leaned toward him.

"No, no, no, you can't do it with your arms folded like that. It has to be convincing." He turned to Goren. "Unless you want to… force her to… that could be fun."

Alex immediately dropped her arms, and she saw the look on his face, asking permission. They grasped hands gingerly, and without moving his eyes from hers, Goren spoke to Hagen. "You know, if you back out on this deal, we'll know not to trust you."

"I don't intend… to back out. This is a nice, warm, blanket here." He watched with interest as the two moved closer to each other. They paused, their lips not yet touching. "Remember, with tongue!" he cried.

The command interrupted their momentum, and they both had to take a minute to regain their resolve. Again, they drifted slowly closer, and touched lips together. The first touch was only a test, and so they kissed again, this time opening their mouths. By the third attempt, they managed to French kiss.

Bobby pulled away and turned immediately to their captor, letting go of his partner. The man chuckled wildly, and instead of reaching for the lock on the gate, he walked away, his back to them. He grabbed a gun out of the van and walked back, aiming it at Eames.

"Stand back away from the gate," he ordered in a nasty voice.

Both Goren and Eames stepped back, but Goren measured his stride and tried to keep within two paces of it.

"Farther back, now!" Hagen ordered. "All the way against the wall!"

Sadly, they did as they were told. He kept the gun aimed steadily at Eames and never once tried to threaten Goren with it.

"Now, turn around."

They slowly turned their backs to him.

"Nose and toes against the plaster. Do it!" He paused while they did as he asked. "Now put your hands deep in your pockets. That's it, that's right. All the way." Satisfied that they were in position, he called out as he withdrew his keys. "In case you're wondering, the gun's still aimed at her head. It's not moving. Either of you tries anything and she's dead."

He opened the gate, threw in the blanket and slammed it shut. Then he stepped away, cackling. Bobby and Alex turned back toward their captor, disappointed. Bobby leaned down and retrieved the blanket. He put it over Alex's shoulders with an apologetic shrug.

* * *

DNA results had come back, verifying it was Goren's blood on the doors. All of Major Case was on it now. Ross downed his fifth cup of coffee and looked up at the clock. It was nearly one a.m.

Jeffries rushed in. "He has a tenant who used to work at the psych ward in Bellevue. The guy said he thought his ID was stolen. He was just about to report it and pay for a new one, and then he found his sitting out in the open on his counter."

"Bellevue missing any droperidol?"

"Not missing, per se, but there were a few bottles dispersed to this tenant of Hagen's. He swears he didn't do it."

"Lab results on the contents of the pellet stove," Logan announced, waving them in the air before reading the pertinent part to the captain. Traces of formic acid and sulfuric acid. A recipe for carbon monoxide."

"Fine. I'm satisfied we can nail the guy. Now where the hell is he? And where are my detectives?"

Wheeler piped in, handing the Captain a printout. "We checked his extended family. He has a brother in Queens who reported his old clunker of a van stolen."

"A 1977 Econoline? Who the hell would steal one of those?"

"You mean besides a horny teenager?" Mike quipped.

"We revised the APB to include the van," Wheeler said.

Ross looked around at his staff. "Anybody have any leads on where he took them in this historical vehicle?"

Jeffries spoke. "Winters is trying to track the van in Queens. Given the timeline, he could be anywhere within a 200 mile radius of there."

* * *

They were close together under the blanket, and it was still cold. Eames, who had very little body fat, was shivering.

Bobby adjusted his position to put his arms around her. She pulled away. "Don't, Bobby. Don't give the bastard what he wants." He'd set up a camera on them before he'd left for the night, hoping that they would find a way to comfort each other in the cold. Alex was keenly aware that she was being recorded.

"It's not about sex, Eames. It's survival. You need to stay warm and so do I. Don't think about the camera."

Reluctantly, she acquiesced. She regretted what had happened earlier, but she was glad they had a blanket. She couldn't imagine how cold she would be without it. He wanted to see them naked in return for the food, and they had refused. For now, for today, it was the right thing to do. But both Eames and Goren knew that they would need food and water before long. If they were still captive, they would need to do whatever it takes to survive.

"Bobby, can you hear me?" She whispered quietly. What she had to say, she didn't want picked up on the recording.

"What?"

Alex rolled over in his arms and moved her lips as close to his ear as she could. She whispered, "Move your hand up to hide my mouth."

He did as she said. Bobby tried not to be distracted by her hot breath against his ear.

"We can come up with a code word, a signal. If he's aiming the gun at me, we just time it right, and I can drop while you go after him. We can do it, Bobby, we just have to plan carefully."

"I don't wanna take that risk."

"It's my risk to take, not yours."

"Eames, there's no reason to risk your life."

"Not yet, you mean. Once he pokes us with a needle, we're goners, Bobby and you know it. We don't have much time here."

"He's playing it differently this time. He's trying to get us to put on a show for him."

"He might have done it with the others; we don't know…"

"No, he didn't. He would have left something… behind. He makes art because he wants people to see it, to appreciate his… talent. If he had recorded the others, he would have left it for us to find."

"So then why us?"

"It's… it's… forbidden, just like masturbation with the last victim. It's forbidden sex."

"If we give him what he wants, he'll be ready to kill us."

"If we don't give him what he wants, we'll die, too. The trick is to string him along as long as we can."

"And avoid the needle." Alex adjusted her position and managed to move in closer. Their cheeks were pressed together, and she tried to keep her body from responding to his musky warmth. "Humor me, Bobby. Give me a code word and a plan."

"I don't want to."

"I only mean as a last resort. Please."

Hearing her whispered plea in his ear was more powerful than she could have imagined. He shifted slightly, and her body nestled smoothly against his. His cock twitched, and he swallowed, hoping she hadn't felt it. "Okay, uh… how about…uhm… this is it?"

"That's it?"

"No, this is it."

"I mean that's what you're going to say?"

"Yeah, I'll say… 'this is it.'"

"Okay, and then we'll both give a three second count, and then we move."

"'Mississippi' seconds or 'one thousand' seconds?"

"Why does that matter?"

"It does. The rhythm… we have to be totally in sync."

"Okay, Mississippi."

"Okay."

Eames had finally managed to stop shivering. Their conversation over, he brushed his hand back against her hair and they managed a fitful sleep. The only comfort each had was the warmth of the other.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Detective Winters had a hit. He'd put every beat cop in Queens on the trail of the blue van, and finally, his phone rang. "Winters," he barked, answering the phone.

"Detective Winters, this is Officer Banasik. I, uh, I got a report back on your Ford."

"Yeah? What is it?!" Winters couldn't hide his excitement.

"I pulled into this burger joint at midnight for my lunch, and you know, I got to talking with the guys working there, and they said your van pulled through the drive through about ten p.m. I showed him the APB pic, and they verified that was the guy."

"Did he say anything about where he was going?"

"No, but they said the van headed to the on-ramp for 278 North."

"Good, that's good. Get the word out, BOLO for that van in that neighborhood."

"You got it, Detective."

"Good work, Banasik."

* * *

Alex jerked awake in fear, and Bobby let her loose from his grasp. She got her bearings quickly, and turned sharply back to him, trying to replace the blanket over them both. "Is he here?" she whispered.

"No." Bobby used his full voice now. "And the light went off on the camera. I think the batteries died." He saw her relax slightly and felt a pang of worry. He knew, after the trauma she'd already endured, that this must be awful for her. "Go ahead and sleep. I'm awake," he told her.

She took a deep breath and tried to settle in against him again. "I'll try, but I doubt I can," she said, and closed her eyes.

"It's okay," Bobby soothed. He, too, took a deep breath and slowly blinked his eyes as he listened hard for any sign of their captor.

After a long silence, she sighed. "I don't know which I'd rather have first, a meal or a bath."

Bobby chuckled. "Not a hard decision, here," he said, and on cue his stomach growled.

"I wonder what time it is?" she said. The low lighting in their makeshift prison had never changed. There were no windows, and their only clue as to the time was the temperature.

"It's still pretty cold," Bobby said. "My guess is early morning." He untangled himself from her and got to his feet. "Nature calls," he said. "I'll make this corner the latrine," he said, jerking his thumb at the walls.

"Bobby, wait!"

He turned back to her.

"You're a good shot, right? Take out the camera."

"I'm not sure if… pissing him off right now… is a good idea…"

"Well, it was a thought." She looked away while he relieved himself and then forced herself up, as well. She made the blanket into a neat, long cushion on the floor, and took her turn in the corner.

When she returned, she stretched and ran in place. Bobby paced the cell. "Eames," he began. "Do you think they've figured it out, yet?"

"No doubt," she told him.

"No?"

"No."

Bobby allowed himself a shy smile. His partner had given him exactly what he needed: reassurance.

* * *

"We've still got nothing. Just a general direction, and the possibility that he's staying close to the city," Winters reported. It was an impromptu team meeting. Winters and Jeffries stood on Ross' left hand, and Logan and Wheeler on his right.

The Captain gave them all a moment of eye contact as he spoke. "All right, what about his supplies? I mean, he left all his stuff in that basement. So did he buy more somewhere?"

"We executed the search warrant at Hagen's apartment. Found more plaster, some syringes, but no sign of the drugs," Logan reported.

"Fine. Where can he buy plaster of paris?" asked Ross.

"There are a couple dozen art supply places in that part of town, and a number of hobby shops that might carry it, as well," Wheeler said.

"Start with the location of his last purchase. Maybe he's a creature of habit." Logan and Wheeler headed out together as the Captain turned his attention to the other team.

* * *

The two sat crosslegged on the blanket, facing each other. Bobby's hands were palm up under Alex's downturned ones. He flinched and faked a couple of times, but she didn't fall for it. Then he flipped a hand and tried to smack hers, but she was too fast for him. Bobby groaned, and she smiled.

"Give it up, Goren, I am undefeated," she gloated.

"Tomboy," he said, shaking his head. Their light moment was interrupted by the rising of the garage door. Both got to their feet, immediately alert and on edge.

They heard the van driving closer, heard the squeak of the brakes and the popping of the engine when he turned it off. Hagen walked around to the passenger door, withdrew a Styrofoam container, and walked into their line of sight. He opened the container, and their noses were filled with the aroma of fresh pancakes.

"Hungry yet?" He asked them. He went back to the van and brought out a container of water. "Or maybe you're thirsty?"

Bobby licked his lips. He still remembered his torture at Tates prison, and what it felt like as he slowly succumbed to the effects of dehydration. Alex touched her hand to his arm and he snapped out of his memories.

Hagen left the pancakes and water on the floor just out of his prisoners' reach. He went to his camera and checked it. Easily, he slipped out the battery and dropped it into his pocket. After another short trip to the van, he returned with a new one. He turned it on and began to view the footage from the night before, fast forwarding through it. He got to the part where they held each other, and he stopped to watch it carefully. After several minutes, his disappointment was clear.

"Stubborn, the both of you," he muttered, removing the memory card from the camera and replacing it with a new one.

"Why didn't you, you know, pursue art in a more traditional way?" Goren asked him. "I mean, you-you have an eye for composition, that's very clear…"

"Detective… flattering me?"

"N-no. I, I have an eye for art. I call it like I see it." Bobby took a step closer to the gate, as close as he could get to his captor. "So why did you go so far off the beaten path, Brad? Where did your art turn to the morose?"

"Morose?! Why, because I honor the dead?! You don't understand anything."

"No, no, I… I see now. You're honoring them in death. You're making them, in death, into something bigger than they could ever have achieved in life. I see, I really do."

Alex knew exactly what Bobby was doing, but as much as she tried to steel her stomach and join in, she couldn't. This man was one of the most vile killers they had ever encountered, and she couldn't pretend to appreciate the art in what he'd done. So she hung back and let her partner do all the talking.

"An accountant in midlife," Hagen scoffed, recalling his first victim. "I knew him, you know. Had lunch with him now and then."

"Y-you saved him," Bobby said. "You saved him from a life that was… mundane… without meaning."

Hagen nodded. "I planned it all so carefully, and it worked, every single step!"

"And now, in your work, he's more than human, he's divine," Bobby added.

Hagen smiled. "The work is… is such torture!" he cried, and Alex felt her stomach turn. "Sometimes, it takes a month before the inspiration strikes."

Bobby nodded eagerly. "I know, I know! And you have to wait, and then you have to be ready! You have to be ready when it does!"

Hagen picked up the water jug. He instructed Goren to hold out his hands, and when Bobby did, he rewarded him with a splash. Bobby turned to Eames, offering her some before it slipped through the cracks in his flesh. She hurried over and took a short sip, then encouraged Bobby to drink what was left. Her eyes met his, then, and her cheeks colored as she realized she'd just entertained their captor with an unexpected moment of intimacy.

Bobby's eyes repeated his words from the night before: _It's not about sex; it's about survival._

She read the message in his eyes, and she saw his subtle nod, but still, she looked at the floor and stepped away from him.

"And sometimes," Hagen said, his voice filled with soft excitement, "The inspiration is there when you least expect it." He offered Bobby another handful of water, which he eagerly took. Alex didn't want to drink this time, but Bobby stepped toward her, his back blocking the old man's view, and she grudgingly took a drink before the last of the water slipped away.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Bobby stood by the gate, staring at the pancakes and water where Hagen had placed them on the floor. "All right, look, what do we have to do to get that stuff?" he asked. Alex frowned behind him.

Hagen gave him a slow smile. "If you want to eat, you do it all."

"You don't know us from Adam," Alex said. "How do you know he's even… capable? He might have a medical problem or something. What if he can't get it up?"

"I have some little blue pills, if you need them."

Goren listened to Hagen, but then spun and almost looked at Eames. "There's nothing wrong with me, Eames."

"No, Bobby, there is… because you keep offering to make deals with this guy."

Bobby shook his head and turned back. "You heard her," he said. "Going all the way is still out. Now, what else can we do?"

Hagen closed up the pancake box and dropped it onto the chair. He walked back to Goren. He picked up the jug of water and held it before the larger man. "Water. A whole cup full this time." Hagen looked him over, then looked Eames up and down. "All you have to do is get naked."

Bobby looked over at his partner, who was seething. He cocked his head and shut his eyes briefly, turning back. "It's too cold in here for that. It's too cold at night. One blanket won't cut it."

The eyes of their captor sparkled. "You get naked, you get a cup of water. She gets naked, you get another blanket."

Bobby chewed on his bottom lip as he mulled it over.

"What kind of blanket?" Alex asked from three paces behind him. "Another thin as shit blanket like this one? Or something really helpful like a sleeping bag?"

Hagen smiled. He left them for a moment to open the back of the van.

"Look, you don't have to," Bobby told her.

"It may be time to put that plan into play," she whispered to him, and he nodded.

Hagen returned with a large comforter, slightly dirty, but much warmer than the blanket he'd given them the night before. He set it on the floor by the gate.

Without another word, Bobby started to strip.

"Goren!" Eames cried.

"We need… water, Eames. We'll die of dehydration without it."

He peeled the last of his clothing off, dropping it onto the little pile at his feet.

Hagen smiled. "Now pick up your clothes," the old man ordered.

Bobby scooped them up in a ball in his arms.

"Carry them over there," Hagen said, pointing to their latrine corner.

With a frown, Bobby carried them over. It was disgusting, and though it was necessary, both he and Alex had taken great pains to avoid that area.

"Drop your clothes on top of that… little pile," he ordered.

His lips became an angry line, and Bobby looked over at his partner, then back at their captor, and then at the water jug. He dropped his clothes onto the floor.

"Now step on it," Hagen said, "Smear it around, soak it up."

Bobby found his shoes first, and put them on. Then he rubbed his clothing thoroughly in the waste.

Finally, he stepped off the mess and peeled his shoes back off his feet, leaving them there.

He turned back to Hagen, who had a sadistic grin on his face. "I'll go get you a cup!" He cried cheerfully, and hurried back to the van.

Bobby covered himself with his hands and turned to face Eames. By the time Hagen came back, she was already stripping out of her clothes. He cackled with glee.

"Eames, don't, you don't need to—" Bobby said angrily.

"You'll die of exposure without that blanket," she said simply. She took off the last of her clothes and covered herself with her hands as best she could.

Hagen smiled and motioned toward the corner. "Yours too," he said. Goren picked them up for her and took them to the corner. This time, the man didn't order him to step on them. The other clothes had absorbed most of the filth already.

"All right, we had a deal!" Goren shouted angrily. "Water, and a blanket!"

Hagen poured the water into a plastic cup, filling it to the brim. He set the cup on the floor near the gate, and moved the comforter slightly, too, allowing himself room to open and close the thing quickly. Then he went back to retrieve the gun from the truck.

Again, he held the gun on Eames. "Step to the back," he demanded.

Both Bobby and Alex moved backwards.

"Turn around," Hagen said.

They turned to face the wall once more. They heard the jangle of the keys, and Bobby whispered "This is it."

_One Mississippi._ Bobby hooked his right foot behind his left slightly, ready to spin.

_Two Mississippi._ He put his hands against the wall to push off in a hurry.

_Three Mississippi. _Alex dropped just as the gate unlatched. Bobby pushed and spun and ran full force at the old man.

The gun went off, shattering the layers of plaster on the back wall. It went off again, and there was a whining sound as the bullet ricocheted and disappeared.

Bobby wrestled with the old man just outside the gate, but he tripped over the comforter and fell back.

Alex was on her feet now, the gun leveled at her bare chest. She stopped in her tracks.

Brad Hagen was breathing hard. "You get back in there, or I'll kill her," he told Goren, who slowly inched back into the cell, dragging the comforter with him.

"All the way back," Hagen told them both.

Bobby got to his feet. He and Alex walked backwards until they bumped the back wall.

"Turn around."

Again, they faced the wall.

The old man slid what was left of the glass of water into the cell and closed the gate with a slam. Then he busied himself with the camera, took the food and water, and left.

"Damn it!" Bobby shouted, and his voice echoed throughout the barren shop.

"Here," Alex said, handing him the lighter blanket. She had already covered herself with the comforter. "Are you hurt?" She asked him as he wound the blanket around his waist.

"No, I don't think so." Bobby looked down at the ground. "He's stronger than he looks."

"I'll bet he doesn't have COPD, either."

"I think that's a given," Bobby agreed.

They went to the cleanest spot in the room, and sat down on the floor, adjusting the blankets to cover themselves.

"I can probably get at least some of your clothes, they're probably okay," Bobby told her, staring at the back corner.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," she said. She would have gotten them herself, but with the larger blanket, it was harder to manage and still keep herself covered. Bobby got up and carefully rummaged through the pile, only removing the items that were still clean and dry.

He handed her a pair of underwear, her tank undershirt, and one sock. She inspected each item closely, and he turned his head while she put them on.

"Feels weird to wear one sock."

"Every little bit counts," he said, settling in on the floor beside her. Bobby scoffed and shook his head. "Well, this was a major fuck up."

She reached out her hand and massaged his neck. "It was worth a try," she told him.

Suddenly, Bobby remembered the water. He got back up and picked it up off the floor. "Only half," he said, and he saw the puddle on the other side of the gate. "It spilled."

"Nice of him to give it to us anyway," she said.

Bobby brought her the cup and put it in her hand. Alex took a small drink, and handed it back. He gave it to her again. "You drink half, and I'll drink half," he said.

Soon the cup was empty. Alex left the comforter behind and carried the cup over near the latrine. She left it there and walked back.

Bobby averted his eyes. She was covered now, but he could still see how her nipples stood erect under her thin shirt. Even without looking, he could feel his body's response. He made sure the blanket was covering him and squirmed in place.

"I didn't mean anything when I asked that whole 'what if' question."

Bobby looked up into her eyes, and then smiled. "I know, I know," he said.

Alex gave him a grin. "I know you don't have any trouble… getting it up," she whispered, turning her back to the camera.

"Not when you're around," he muttered so quietly she'd never hear. She sat down beside him and threw the comforter over them both. They leaned their backs against the cold wall and sat shoulder to shoulder, pondering what new hell they would face next.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

This was the fifteenth store Logan and Wheeler had been in. Logan was tired. He wasn't the artsy-craftsy type anyway, and the constant dead ends were driving him nuts.

Hagen had been smart enough not to go back to the same store. So much for that idea. Now they were hoofing it to every store they could find. Logan watched this shopowner scurry around behind the counter as he evaded their questions, and he felt like his last nerve was being rubbed raw.

He turned to his partner. "You got those crime scene photos?" Logan asked.

"Sure," replied Wheeler, pulling them out of her purse. She handed the stack of photos to him.

Mike sorted through them and showed one to the man. "You like this kind of art?" He asked.

The man glanced at the picture, then shrugged. "It's hard to find a good sculptor nowadays," he said.

"Yeah? Well this one, he's sculpting with dead people. Look closer." Mike told him the name of the victim and a few details. The man's jaw dropped and his face paled. He looked away.

"And there's more. Here, look, this lady, she was only 22." He laid it on the counter. "And here's another guy, he was an associate pastor at his church." Again, Mike laid it down. "Here's the kicker, though. This little guy was only 12. He had good grades, never even kissed a girl yet. Look what the bastard did to him."

The man kept his face turned away. Logan grabbed him by the collar and dragged him back where he could see the photograph. "Look at him!" he commanded. "He was 12 years old, for Christ's sake!"

"It's—It's horrible," the man said, trembling.

"So when we ask you who the hell's been buying your plaster of paris, there's a good reason for the question, you see?! Now, think hard! Did you sell to this guy in the last three days?" He laid a picture of Hagen on the counter.

The man stared and eventually, his head bobbed up and down in a nod. "Y-yesterday… I think… I think it might be on my security camera." He hurried to the back, retrieved the memory card, and handed it to the detectives. "I'm so, so sorry," he said. "I had no idea, and you know, my customers, they're just… normal people. Hobbyists…"

"Thank you," Wheeler said, and she and Mike headed out quickly. He was on the phone to the Captain even as she steered through the busy traffic, heading to the closest precinct. They needed to view this fast, and there wasn't time to go back to 1PP.

* * *

Bobby spent some time digging at the hole the bullet had made in the wall. He thought maybe he could find something useful in there; maybe break loose a piece of conduit or some wire he could use as a weapon.

He came back empty handed, though the hole was much bigger, now. With the blanket tied around his waist, his chest was exposed. He was shivering. Night was descending on them. They could feel the chill coming through the walls.

"Give me your blanket," she told him. She offered him the comforter as a trade, and he handed over the lighter one. Alex spread it carefully on the floor. "Now," she said to him. "That's the bed. Lie down."

He did as he was told, and she snuggled in beside him. Bobby straightened the thicker blanket overtop of them both, and tried to move away when he felt Alex's body against his most private part.

"It's not about sex, Bobby," Alex told him. "We have to keep warm."

His respiration increased, but he nodded and scooted closer to her.

"If you get cold, you have to tell me," she said to him. She wasn't wearing much, but she knew the shirt would help a lot to keep her warm. Bobby, on the other hand, had nothing but the blankets and Alex's body heat to keep him warm.

"I'm sorry," he told her.

"No. I'm not accepting any apologies. This is just bad luck, plain and simple. But you know what? We're still alive, we're not sedated, and we still have a chance. I'm not giving up, Bobby, and neither are you."

"Yeah. Okay."

"C'mere," she told him, forcing him closer so she could put her arm over top of him. "I don't want any cold air sneaking in."

"Okay." He glanced nervously at the red light on the camera. He could feel her body pressed against him, and he felt his blood being diverted. She felt it too, and he was embarrassed. "Alex, what do we do if… if this isn't enough?" he whispered.

"I can think of another way to keep warm," she told him.

"N-no. The camera, and we can't—"

"It's about survival, Bobby, right?" She moved her lips over his ear and whispered softly. "I'll do whatever it takes, Bobby. We're gonna get out of this alive."

He fought back an overpowering urge to kiss her. He wouldn't give Hagen the satisfaction. Instead, he nodded his head gently, feeling his cheek against hers.

* * *

The comforter made a world of difference. Even without the clothing, they were much warmer than the night before. Bobby even managed to drift off to sleep in the early part of the evening, until the cold seeping up from the concrete below them woke him.

He adjusted his position, and tried to check that Eames was warm enough. The backs of her arms were cold, and the tip of her nose, but her core seemed to have an abundance of heat.

Bobby shivered involuntarily, and she stirred. He tried to stay still, but he could feel the trembling rise and spread through him. He turned his back to Eames and curled up in the fetal position, careful to stay under the dirty old comforter.

She turned with him, spooning him, and when she felt him shiver again, she hugged him tight against her body. "You're cold," she said quietly.

"I'm o-o-okay," he said through chattering teeth. Alex found a way to press even closer against him.

"You were supposed to tell me…"

"Tell you what? That I'm fucking cold? As if it isn't fucking obvious? Big deal, I'm cold, you're cold, not a whole hell of a lot we can do about it, is there, Eames?" He punctuated his little rant with a full body shiver, then smacked his hand against the floor angrily, which caused a rush of cold air to sneak in under the blanket.

"Okay, look, I'm all for anger if it'll keep you warm, but you can't raise the blanket like that."

Bobby bit his tongue. He was freezing, he had a pounding headache, he hadn't eaten in two days, and he was desperately tired. The easiest thing to do was to snap at her, but she was his lifeline, and he knew it. He also knew she had to feel as rotten as he did. So instead of speaking, he pressed his lips together and felt the tremors course through him.

"The light's out on the camera again. How long do you think? Four hours, maybe?"

"C-c-could be as much as six."

"I don't think we would have slept that long," Alex told him, and he nodded in between his shivering.

"M-might be a bad battery," he said. "Then it wouldn't last as long."

"Yeah." Alex slid her hand along his bare chest. "Anyway, it's not recording." She spent several minutes caressing him with her hand, and then dropped a kiss on his neck.

"This isn't going to work," Bobby said.

"Shhh…" she told him, and nipped at his earlobe.

Her hot breath against his ear made his blood rush south. Bobby turned toward her, careful to keep the blanket from letting in too much cold air. He kissed her neck and nuzzled his cheek against hers.

"Ow! Your whiskers," she explained.

"Sorry."

"It's okay," she said, and kissed his cheek. Their lips searched and found each other's. It was awkward. Just as one of them would get lost in the sensations, the other would remember the reality of the situation and stop.

Even with the awkwardness, it was working. Their breath came faster, and they were warming up from the inside out. "This is—I don't think we can—" Bobby protested even as their lips continued to meet.

"Shut up, Bobby," Alex told him, sighing against his lips and shifting one leg to rest against his groin. His desire returned with a vengeance.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

His hands explored her breasts, saturating them with warmth. Kisses grew deeper, and soon neither one of them was thinking about the cold. Bobby's lips broke away with a smack, and he paused to stare into her eyes.

His hands cupped her face gently, and he drew closer for another, deeper kiss. "God," he breathed, and kissed her again. Then he turned quickly to his back, sending a draft of cool air over them. Bobby groaned. "We have to… to think this through, Alex. We have to stay on our game to get out of this alive."

"We have to stay alive to get out of this alive," she countered.

"Well, I'm warm now, and we haven't… you know."

"Me, too."

"And I gotta tell you, without eating, I'm not sure I have the energy to—"

"Me either."

"We have to conserve our energy. We may get another chance to overpower him."

"Yeah," she agreed, and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Besides, if we get sweaty, we'll freeze even faster…"

"Yeah, you're right," she sadly agreed.

He hugged her with his left arm and sighed, wishing desperately they were in very different circumstances.

"It's okay, Bobby. You're right. We have to be sensible about this." She hugged him back and promised herself things would be different once they were free.

* * *

Hagen came back again, and he was again disappointed when he reviewed his video footage. He replaced the video card and snarled at them as he walked past their cage. "Maybe you really can't get it up."

"Maybe," Bobby shouted, "These aren't the ideal circumstances for what you're hoping for! We need food! And water!"

"You're never gonna get what you're after, Hagen," Alex said coldly.

The man withdrew a needle from his pocket, and both Goren and Eames looked at each other. The fear was well-masked, but it was there.

"Look, look… I'm sorry," Bobby told the man. "I'm just, you know… I'm grumpy. I shouldn't have snapped at you. I know you… you have something good planned for us, something… beautiful."

Hagen smiled, but otherwise ignored the big man. He withdrew the gun from his pocket and aimed it at Eames. "Inspiration is a fickle thing." Eames took a step to the side, keeping her eye on Hagen's gun hand. "It came to me last night. You're right, it will be beautiful."

Hagen paused to look at the syringe, then aimed his weapon at Eames again. "It's time," he told Goren. "You're going to inject yourself with this."

"N-n-no."

Hagen fired off a shot above Eames' head. "You think I'm joking about this?! I'll kill her right now!"

Bobby hastily reached out his hand toward the fencing and with trepidation allowed their captor to drop the syringe into his hand. Fortunately, the needle didn't stick him in the transfer. Bobby's breath was coming fast. He could feel his heart racing.

"Let him shoot me, Bobby. You'll still have a chance."

"No, Eames. This… this droperidol… it won't kill me." He rolled the syringe back and forth between his fingers. "It will just… just slow me down."

"Good," said Hagen with a smile. "Now you're making sense."

Bobby held the needle to the vein at the inside of his elbow.

"Not there!" Hagen cried. He looked down at the blanket tied around Goren's waist. "You know where."

"Look, is that really… necessary?" Bobby asked in exasperation. "The drugs will do their work from any vein."

"But the puncture mark needs to be hidden. I need a clean canvas to work with."

Bobby sighed. As he rolled his eyes, the word "Fuck" formed inaudibly in his mouth.

"Bobby, don't."

His eyes were pained when he looked at her. He saw the determination in her face, but he could also see the cold steel aimed at her head. He glanced around, and dropped the blanket to the floor before sitting on it. Bobby lifted his sac, and winced as he jabbed the needle in.

"Bobby!" Eames shouted in dismay.

He squeezed the syringe dry and pulled it out, then threw it at the gate. It bounced off and hit the floor. Alex hurried to his side and Hagen put away the gun with a smile on his face. The old man turned his attention to the video camera, while Eames tried to tend to her partner.

It didn't take long for the drug to do its work. He held fast to her hand until his fingers weakened and slipped away. Then she watched as Bobby's eyes rolled back in his head.

"You bastard!" She cried, turning her body toward Hagen.

"You've got some work to do, my dear," the horrible man said.

"No. Whatever the hell you have in mind, I won't do it."

Hagen shook his head and drew the gun once more. This time, he aimed at Goren's motionless head. "Are you sure?" he asked.

Tears welled up in her eyes and she spat out, "Goddamn it!"

Hagen laughed. He laughed as he walked out of sight and started pulling his supplies from the back of the van.

* * *

"Captain?" Jeffries called out from the doorway. None of them had gotten any rest, beyond an hour's nap here and there. The Captain was particularly snippy. Jeffries approached with caution.

"You have something?"

"Yeah. These pictures showed up on the website." He handed over the stack of photographs, a neat pile of photos of Goren and Eames in each other's arms in a grungy looking blanket. In one photograph, her lips were close to his ear, as if she were about to kiss him.

"IT already took them down," Jeffries said.

"These were on OUR site? Shit!" Ross took a deep breath and looked at the photos again. "Okay, so… Let's take this as good news… they're still alive."

"The media, sir. One of the networks ran the pictures before we got them off our site. They've been calling all the detectives in Major Case, trying to get someone on the air."

Ross hung his head and rubbed his hand through his wild curls. "I'll call the Chief of D's. Get everything you can from these. I expect somebody to find out where the hell Hagen's computer is! And Goren and Eames, too!"

"Yessir," said Jeffries, as he went back to the bullpen.

* * *

"Step back, back against the wall," Hagen ordered. He had a bucket of plaster mixed and ready on the floor beside the gate. The keys were in his left hand, and the gun in his right. "You know the drill," he told her.

Alex turned to face the wall. Her nose was beside the hole Bobby had dug in the plaster, and she realized her hand was much smaller than her partner's. She shifted her body over a little and reached one hand inside the wall. Alex rummaged around with her fingers, trying to ignore what felt like spider webs and finally, she grasped a couple of loose wires. She heard the gate unlocking behind her, and she pulled on the wires with all her might.

The top end broke free. Afraid the whole length of wire would fall into the bottom of the wall, she raked it back and forth in the drywall until there was a notch to hold it in place. By then, Hagen had locked the cell again.

"All right, turn around," he told her.

Alex turned slowly and saw the bucket of plaster next to Bobby's drugged body. "You have got to be kidding," she told the man.

"Just the legs and arms," Hagen told her. "I'll manage the rest."

"I'm not going to hurt him."

Her captor smiled. He walked over to the left and gestured at Goren's feet. "Turn him to his side."

Reluctantly, Alex did as she was told. She moved very slowly, feigning that she was weakened from the lack of food. She could tell her energy was low, but not as low as she made it seem. She felt Bobby's pulse while she had the chance. It was slow, but steady.

Alex tucked the comforter over his torso and straightened the other blanket over his lower half.

"Start with his feet," Hagen commanded.

Alex's face screwed up in sadness, but she saw no way out of doing what he said. Bobby was helpless, and Hagen would most certainly kill him if she didn't obey.

* * *

"Our sources have identified these two as detectives in Major Case Squad. What have you to say about their behavior?"

Ross frowned at the camera. "I'd say you and your viewers should stop making assumptions about the things you see. These are highly respected detectives from my squad, and they are currently hostages in a life-threatening situation. This is a photograph of our primary suspect. He was last seen driving a navy blue Ford Econoline van heading North out of Queens. Any assistance the public can give in helping us locate Brad Hagen will be greatly appreciated. Do not approach him; he is believed to be armed and dangerous. Just call the hotline," Ross rattled off the phone number twice, "and give the information. Any further questions can be directed to the Chief of Detectives. Thank you." Ross hurried away to tend to the case, leaving Moran to schmooz the media.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Alex was growing very tired. She'd been forced to plaster his feet and lower legs together, and then to administer another dose of the sedative. She covered Goren with the large comforter and headed back to the back wall to work the wires free again. She pulled several times, and was rewarded with a snap. Quietly, Alex coiled the wire into a tight loop in her hand. If she could get him close enough, she would use it to choke the bastard.

Alex tucked the cord under Bobby's immobile shoulder. It was hidden but well within her reach. She had to get him through the night, and then maybe in the morning, she could strike out against their captor. Alex slid under the soiled blanket with him and snuggled her body as close to his as she could manage.

Hagen was no longer recording their time alone. Instead, he'd been recording her as she'd plastered Bobby, and as she'd injected him with the drug. It made her feel horrible, so she tried to comfort herself thinking of what Bobby had said, about how the drug wouldn't kill him, and they had to string Hagen along as long as they could. Alex smoothed her hand over and over his chest, trying to warm him. She was very afraid that he would succumb to the cold under the effects of the droperidol. She slipped her fingers up and sampled his pulse. She was shocked when it seemed to stop and then start again.

"Bobby?" She whispered, knowing he wouldn't be able to respond. Alex hugged him fiercely and fought hard not to cry. When she had been abducted by Gage, for most of that experience, she had been alone. This was different. Now she was with Bobby, and it was hard to keep her emotions contained where he was concerned. It was easy to be strong when you only had yourself to worry about.

* * *

"He hacked into our system and posted those pictures from a fucking coffee shop?!" Ross' tone was sour. He frowned at the group of detectives in front of him. "Let's get up there," he ordered. They hurried to the elevators, grabbing coats and gloves along the way. Logan and Wheeler jogged ahead and opted for the stairs instead.

By 3:30 in the morning, there was a convoy of flashing lights heading up the freeway.

* * *

Alex heard the door of the van open. She heard Hagen relieving himself on the concrete floor out of her field of vision. She grabbed the wire and silently moved close to the gate, where she laid down and pretended to be asleep.

Hagen walked over and called out to her to wake her up. Alex continued to play possum. She had to get him to open the gate, and on her terms, not his. She heard him walk away and come back and was shocked when she felt the splash of cold water against her skin. She managed not to react to it, not more than a slight flinch.

She heard the old man curse under his breath. She heard him rattling around, moving things and trying to decide what to do about her. Finally, she heard the keys jangling.

* * *

They combed the streets looking for any sign of Hagen or of the blue van. They had done enough research from the photographs to know that Goren and Eames were being held in some kind of barren warehouse, so they scouted those areas, as well.

The early dawn was as silent as a stone. There was no sign of Hagen, or of anyone else.

Logan tapped the dashboard with his palm and Wheeler stopped the car. He opened the door and climbed out, the crisp air smacking him in the face. He stared at the warehouses surrounding them and then grabbed a flashlight and started searching on foot.

Wheeler put on her coat. She grabbed her flashlight and his coat and jogged up to join him. She tossed him his jacket, and he paused long enough to put it on.

* * *

The only problem with the plan was that she couldn't see him. She had to assume he would have the gun out and readied to shoot either her or Goren. Alex listened carefully, and remained perfectly still, the little coil of wire between her fingers.

His foot nudged her side. "Wake up, detective. We're not done yet."

She ignored it, trying to gauge if he had the weapon and which hand it would be in.

He grabbed her by the hair and yanked hard, pulling her head up. Immediately, she saw the gun was in his right hand. She elbowed him hard in the crotch. It was enough for him to lose his grip on her. She jerked away and rammed her body hard against him, banging the hand with the gun against the cold metal of the gate.

They struggled, but she managed to hurt him enough that he dropped the weapon.

He was strong, however. He almost overpowered her but she hit his privates again and he yelped and buckled. Alex slipped the wire around his neck and pulled hard.

He reached for it with one hand, and for her with the other. He managed to rip one end of the wire loose from her grasp and he threw her to the floor. By fortune, she landed on the gun. Alex spun and fired one shot, and he dropped like a stone.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Logan and Wheeler heard the shot. They looked at each other as they drew their weapons and then ran for the source of the sound. The warehouse was locked tight, both the garage door and the smaller door. Wheeler guarded the entrance and Logan circled the building, confirming that there was no other way in or out.

It was deathly quiet. Wheeler called it in and Logan poked around at the garage door. He managed to lift the thing about four inches from ground level, not even enough to crawl under. He kept his weapon in front of him and poked his head down for a peek.

"I got the van," he called to Wheeler. "I can't make out anything else. I can't see anybody. Just the van and a chair or something."

In a blaze of lights, the back-up arrived. Logan and Wheeler stood back as another crew cut through the metal garage door with a welder. The SWAT team headed in first, fully vested and wearing helmets.

It wasn't even two minutes before they'd pronounced it clear. Then the entire team from Major Case was inside, tending to Eames and Goren while they waited for the EMTs to arrive.

After shooting Hagen, Alex had returned to Goren's side, where she hugged him and tried to keep him warm. The arrival of the others had provided them with emergency blankets, and Alex with a sip of water.

Ross quietly interrogated her and then walked her carefully out to the waiting bus. Goren was brought on a gurney shortly afterward. They watched as he was tucked inside the ambulance and carried off to the hospital. "It's okay," the Captain said to Eames. He gave her a sweet, reassuring smile as she laid down inside the ambulance. "It's over. It's okay now," he told her. He gave her hand a squeeze and then got out of the way.

Ross walked back inside to the crime scene. Logan and Wheeler paused in their work. Logan reported to the Captain everything that they had been able to surmise. Then he used his gloved hand to hold a stiff piece of art paper out where the captain could see. It was a sketch of Hagen's next sculpture.

In the drawings, Goren and Eames were lying on their sides in a 69 position. Eames had him in her mouth, and their badges were lying loose just next to Eames' bare behind.

The Captain frowned, then drew in a long, deep breath. "Good work, people!" he called out to everyone. Then he told Logan and Wheeler to leave the case with Jeffries and Winters and head to the hospital with him.

* * *

"I wanna see him," Alex said. She was exhausted, and though she had fared well, she had been admitted. An IV was in her arm, providing both hydration and nutrients. "Please," she said, looking at Logan with those tired eyes. He glanced over at Wheeler, and she nodded and slipped out of the room.

"Okay, Eames. Wheeler's gonna see what she can do about that. We don't even know if he's out of the ER yet. Just sit tight and get some rest. We'll find a way to help you see him, I promise."

* * *

Wheeler inched into the doorway and saw the Captain standing at Goren's bedside. The detective was also being fed intravenously, and had a monitor recording the beating of his heart.

Captain Ross saw her and walked over. They went into the hall to talk, so as not to disturb him. "He came around once, asked for Eames."

"That's why I'm here, Captain. She wants to see him."

Ross turned, glanced at Goren, and then turned back. "There's not much to see."

"What's with the monitor?" she asked.

"That sedative… can mess with your heart rhythm. They're monitoring him just to be sure it's returning to normal. His blood pressure is low, too. How's Eames?" He asked.

Wheeler shrugged. "She needs to rest, but she's determined to see him." She jerked her hand in Goren's direction. "I don't think she'll settle down until she does."

"Let's talk to the staff," Ross said.

* * *

The doctor was unwilling to allow Eames out of bed just yet, but he did approve a room transfer. Once the two detectives were in the same room together, both started to improve. Eames finally fell asleep, and Goren's heart rate stabilized.

* * *

Alex finished combing her wet hair and pulled on her robe. Somehow, since being released from the hospital, she never seemed to be warm enough. The doorbell rang. She walked over, saw Logan in the peephole, and pulled it open.

Bobby stood beside him, wearing a smile. Logan patted Goren on the back and he walked happily into Alex's apartment. "We stopped off and packed him a bag," Logan explained, dropping the duffel bag onto a chair.

Goren and Eames lingered in an embrace, then realized Logan was still there. They pulled apart. "Uh, hey, uh, thanks, Logan," Goren said quietly. "And for your discretion."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Mike announced, with his hands in the air. He kissed Eames on the cheek and shook Goren's hand. "Call me if you need anything," he told them, and took his leave.

Bobby turned to Alex, who took his hand in hers. "I, uh… are you all right?" He asked.

She couldn't stop grinning. "Sure." She massaged his hand with her fingers. "And you're…?"

"They think I'm okay, now." Bobby slipped out of his coat and lowered himself to sit on her couch. "Of course, if I suddenly pass out for no reason, I should probably go back in."

She sat down beside him. She could tell he'd had a shower. His hair was neatly combed, and he'd had a shave. "You look great," she said.

Bobby raised a hand to her cheek. "So do you." His hand dropped back to his lap and he turned so he was sitting properly on the couch. She let go of his hand and turned, as well. They sat beside each other, awkwardly staring in silence at the opposite wall.

When they finally spoke, they spoke at once.

"I just wanted to thank you—"

"Thanks, Bobby—"

They halted their speech and softly chuckled. "You first," Alex said.

"I, uh, I just wanted to thank you… for taking care of me."

"Me, too. I wouldn't have made it without you, Bobby. I would have gotten myself shot on the first day, I'm sure of it."

They turned toward each other again and grasped hands. "And… you know, I, uh… I just wanted to clarify," Bobby said. "You know, if you, uh, if you ever… I don't know, if you were… uhm… interested… in me, then…"

"I'm interested," she whispered. He raised his eyes to meet hers. "And it's not just what we've been through, Bobby." Alex stared at him intently. "I can't think of anyone I'd rather…" She leaned forward, and Bobby's lips met hers.

There was a softness in his kiss. It wasn't like before. This kiss wasn't forced. There wasn't an audience. This kiss was for them.

Alex let her lips linger against his, and soon her hands were gliding along his chest. "You don't have to, Bobby," she whispered. "I don't mean to force anything along…"

Bobby kissed her again, and his hands were gentle against her waist. "I want this," he told her. "I want you."

After several minutes of delicate kissing, Alex drew back. There was a spark of tenderness in her eye. "I have a nice, soft, warm bed," she told him.

Bobby kissed her deeply, and then he sat back. He put his hand in hers. "Lead the way," he said.

Happily, he felt the tug of her hand as she led him to the bedroom. Slowly, they peeled off one layer after another of clothing. Carefully, they touched each other. Blissfully, they made love.

THE END

* * *

A/N Thanks for reading and reviewing! And huge thanks to CherylWb for Beta-ing me! I look forward to doing that lots more! Please remember, reviews are always welcome, even if a story has been sitting around on the site for a long time!


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